On the Outside, Looking In
by ElliotJA
Summary: Worf has ever been a person torn between worlds and ideals - born Klingon, raised primarily by humans, but never truly fitting in with either. Being an outsider, he had to look both within and without in order to find his place in the universe. And it was not always an easy journey.
1. Chapter 1

It was the harsh and rapid hammering upon the front door of the Rozhenko household that jerked Worf out of his silent meditation in his darkened room. Remaining on his knees before the small image of Kahless the Unforgettable, the Klingon youth listened tensely as his ears picked up his parents - his _adoptive_ parents - answering the door, and an angry voice barking "We want the Klingon freak you're harboring, Rozhenko. Hand him over now!" Worf recognized the voice as belonging to Vladimir, a close friend of the parents of...Mikel. The boy now dead because of him.

Then he heard his father, Sergie, speaking. "Please, Vladimir, I understand your pain, but we all know that Worf did not mean for what happened to poor Mikel." And Worf had not; it had only been youthful exuberance when, five days ago during a school soccer game, Worf's head had collided with that of Mikel as they both jumped for the ball. It had been to Worf's great sorrow that he heard the following day that the boy had died of his injuries. He had tried to speak to Mikel's parents after the funeral, but they refused to even look at him. The other children at school glared coldly at him as he passed them in the hallways and muttered among themselves. In truth, Worf had never been fully accepted by the human population of the Gault colony; there had always been that element of fear and mistrust directed toward him, but recent events had exacerbated it. Earlier this afternoon, he had found a piece of paper stuck to his school locker, depicting a crude drawing of a Klingon with a rope around his neck hanging from a tree.

"Stop defending that animal!" another voice shouted. "How many more innocents have to suffer before you finally see that monster for what it really is!" More voices muttered and snarled in agreement, drowning out Sergei and Helena's pleas for reason.

Vladimir again: "We will take the Klingon by force if we have to, Rozhenko. You would not want yourself or the rest of your family to get hurt now, eh?"

Worf growled low in his throat as he heard this. Now they threatened his family, and it was his duty to defend them from these _petaQ'pu_ now gathered at their door this night! His eyes shot toward the _batlh'etlh_ mounted on his bedroom wall, the one that had belonged to his father - his true father - and his father before him, going back generations, one of the few items of his heritage he had. He had almost grasped the blade when he froze, and considered what was happening. Because of his ignorance, a young boy was dead, and now the people who had given him a home and cared for him were paying the price for his mistake. Recklessly lashing out now would only bring further pain and dishonor. Perhaps it would be better to walk downstairs and allow himself to be taken...

Now Worf heard the raised voice of his brother. "You make me sick!" Nikolai was yelling. "First you threaten Worf, now my parents, and they're just trying to get you to see reason! I'm sorry for what happened but, if you won't listen to reason, maybe my fists can convince you!"

"Nikolai, enough!" Worf heard Helena cry, and he fought the urge to run downstairs and stand at Nikolai's side. A moment passed in tense silence, and then Vladimir grumbled that it was not over; they would be back soon. The angry voices moved off into the night. The door slammed shut and the sound of Helena sobbing drifted up to Worf, along with Nikolai saying he would kill them all if he had to, then harsh whispers between him and Sergei. Rage permeated the evening.

OOOOOOOO

Through the clear observation window of the transport ship, Worf watched the surface of Gault, his home for the last seven years, dwindle away amid the stars for what he knew in his heart was the last time. It was best for all of them, to leave; they had to move on. Things had gotten just too dangerous, and staying would only have made things worse in the long run. Though his face was passive, Worf's heart wept, knowing he had failed to fit in, and failed his human parents.

He saw Sergei reflected in the window, stood just behind him, his eyes sorrowful, but with no hint of blame. "Time to leave the past behind, Worf," Sergei said, "And set a course for the future."

" _Qapla'_ , father," Worf responded, not taking his gaze from the planet growing smaller and smaller. Soon the ship went to warp, and it was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

"Well, here we are once again," Sergei Rozhenko announced cheerfully as he and Worf pushed past the ferns and tree branches and stepped into the small, grassy clearing deep inside the forest. The sky above their heads was a magnificent blue; a small stream of clear water trickled and sparkled in the late afternoon sunlight mearby. Sergei deposited the camping equipment he carried on the grass, stretched his arms wide and said "It is so wonderful to be here again after so long, eh, Worf?"

"Yes, father," Worf murmured absently, staring into the distance. He had only lived with the Rozhenkos for about a year when they had first brought him on a camping trip here in Earth's Ural Mountains. The region had always held a deep significance for Sergei, being the place his own father had taken him camping when he was just a boy, before he joined Starfleet and ventured out into the galaxy. The last time Worf had been here was four years ago. Six months after leaving Gault, the family were now living in the city of Minsk, not too far away, and it had been decided that this was a good opportunity to revisit this place.

Sergei stood and studied his adopted son. "What is troubling you?" he asked Worf gently. "Are you still concerned about Nikolai?"

Worf sighed as he turned to face his foster father, feeling somewhat guilty that his somber mood may be spoiling what was supposed to be a joyful activity. "Nikolai was always with us before. I just wish he could be here now, instead of back home with his...new friends."

"I know, I know," Sergei replied, nodding sympathetically. "I miss him too...but we must remember that he is fast becoming a man, and will be growing more accustomed to making his own decisions."

"That may be so," Worf said as he cast his own supplies to the ground, unable to keep a hint of annoyance from his voice. "But you are still his father, and I grow tired of his open disrespect toward you and mother!"

Sergei stepped forward and placed a comforting hand on the shoulder of the young Klingon whom he had brought up as his own flesh and blood for close to eight years. "It is a phase we must all go through, son. Now come - the day grows late, and we should pitch our tents and prepare for the night."

OOOOOOOO

Worf was still awake deep into the night when the wolves started howling. He shot up from where he lay in his sleeping bag within his tent and listened intently. He had heard them before, on the previous occasions he had visited the Urals, yet the calls of the animals never failed to excite something within him, a violent and passionate stirring in his Klingon blood. It was a longing to be wild and free himself, to be free of the trappings of human society, not having to restrai himself and bury his primordial hunter impulses. The love he felt for his human family kept him from plunging into the wilderness to run with the beasts, never to return.

And there were other reasons. The first Age of Ascension would soon be upon him, and Worf could not ignore his true father's wish that he follow in the footsteps of his forebears, and become a warrior. Sergei, Helena and Nikolai would no doubt be concerned for him, but they also understood the demands of tradition and honor Worf felt as a scion of a Great House.

From outside the tent then came a sound of movement, very near. Worf's nose twitched as he detected a new scent growing stronger, and then came the sound of feet padding on the soft grass and snuffling. A wolf! Never before had Worf been so close to one of the new creatures! His pulse was like war drums booming in his head; his body trembled with excitement as he listened to the animal sniffing and prowling just outside the confines of his tent. Memories came to him of how young Nikolai had been afraid when he heard their howling in the dark distance, only for Sergei to reassure him that the wolves would not harm them. Worf had needed no such reassurance. Gradually the sound of the lone visitor's paws on the ground grew fainter as it moved away. Unable to resist the impulse, Worf carefully and quietly unzipped the tent and peered out into the night. He saw the wolf with its' back to him, drinking from the stream. Glorious!

He must have betrayed his presense somehow, for the wolf suddenly started and turned its' great, grey head to look directly at him. For a moment they merely stared at one another, the wolf's eyes a luminous amber in the twilight. Worf did not dare even breath. And then the wolf was gone, bounding off to be engulfed in the darkness that was its' wild home. _May you taste the ultimate freedom, wild one_ , Worf thought as he watched it vanish. _I must walk my own path_.


	3. Chapter 3

The journey from Earth to Qo'noS on board the passenger ship had taken several days, during which time Worf had mostly remained in the small cabin allocated to him, reading up on the customs of the people he had not had any contact with since he was six years old, and meditating to try and quell the nervousness he felt. Now it had just been announced that they had finally arrived. With his belongings securely contained in the duffel bag slung over his shoulder, he paused in a corridor to look out of a window at the mint-green globe of the planet of his birth, the darker mass of the great continent of Kling set amid the vast oceans. As a child he had been too young to fully appreciate its' beauty, but now, after so long...

It had been fortunate that the Rozhenkos, seeing their foster son's yearning to spend time with his own kind, had been able to establish contact with Worf's distant relatives and make the necessary arrangements for him to spend a month on the Klingon homeworld. They had insisted on accompanying Worf to the spaceport, wishing him a good journey and a pleasant stay. "Do not forget to contact us when you are settled in at your cousins'," Helena Rozhenko said to him as they gathered near the departure terminal, dabbing at her wet eyes.

"Of course I shall, mother," Worf had replied. "You have my word." As he grasped hands with Nikolai, he said to his brother "I wish you well in my absense, brother, and...I hope you conduct yourself in an honorable manner, and stay out of trouble."

Nikolai had shrugged sheepishly before responding with "Take care of yourself, Worf. I look forward to seeing you again." A minute after he left them, Worf had stopped and turned to see all three of them still standing there and waving. He remembered wishing they could come with him so he could show them the wonders of his home planet.

Upon beaming down to the surface of Qo'noS, Worf's sight was instantly arrested by the view through the Klingon spaceport's giant transparisteel window of the ornate towers and collosal domes of the First City, the ancient capital of the planet. Here was the seat of power for the whole Klingon Empire, the dwelling place of mighty leaders and heroes, its' very foundation the blood of untold ages! As Worf walked forward, it seemed as though the metropolis sang to him songs of glory...glory he was born to partake of! He was about to draw a deep breath and let loose a roar of celebration, when a voice at his shoulder suddenly said "Worf, son of Mogh?"

Startled, Worf looked sideways to see a male Klingon standing there observing him. "That is my name," he stated warily. He had been told before coming here that his family had enemies in the Empire, and some of them still lived, and would no doubt threaten him were they to find out he was here.

"I am Guvash, son of Lokev," the other Klingon replied. "I have been sent to meet you."

Worf relaxed, recognizing now his half-cousin. "I am sorry, you caught me unawares," he said apologetically.

Guvash watched him closely. "Yes," he said after a brief silence. "Let us hope it does not happen again. I have a hovercar waiting outside. _chotlhej._ " Without waiting for Worf's response, he turned on his heel and began striding quickly in the direction of the exit, not even looking round to see if Worf was still with him until they reached the vehicle.

The ride through the city was a largely quiet affair. Feeling the silence growing tense, Worf decided to try and open conversation. "I intend to undertake the first Rite of Ascension while I am staying with you. I look forward to your family attending the ceremony."

"I am glad," Guvash responded, not even glancing at Worf sat beside him. Nothing else was said for the duration of the journey.

OOOOOOOO

The last of the _kor'dava_ candles was lit, its' small flame flickering bright and steady and filling the chamber of Guvash's home with a heady scent, as Worf stood in front of those who were the closest to family he was ever likely to know. There stood Guvash with his mate and young son; and there was his sister, B'Korla, and her daughter. Also present for Worf's first Rite of Ascension was a somewhat more familiar face: Huraga, a grizzled veteran warrior who had been a close ally of the House of Mogh. Worf was grateful Huraga had heard he was here, and had come all this way just to see the boy who had sat with him and Mogh and listened enraptured to their stories and songs take his first step on the path to becoming a warrior himself. He was sorry Huraga could not stay beyond tonight, even if he did have little else to talk about other than the time Mogh had aided his family against the House of Duras.

And now it was time for him to make the oath. Facing the rest of them with his head held high, he called out " _DaHjaj yInwIj taghtaH. SuvwI jach vIQoy. vItlha' vIneH!_ " This was met by a collective shout of " _Qapla'!_ " from those assembled.

As Wor's cousins and there offspring began to file out of the chamber, Huraga approached Worf with a big grin on his face, and clapped his hands firmly on Worf's shoulders. " _majQa'_ , Worf," he said, "Your parents would be proud of you. Here, I have something here I have wanted to give you for a long time." Reaching into his tunic, he drew forth a very skillfully wrought knife and held it out, handle first, to Worf. "Take this as a token of my respect."

His eyes wide with amazement, Worf reverently took the fine weapon in his hands. "Huraga..." he said softly. "You honor me with such a magnificent gift! Thank you!"

"No, Worf," Huraga replied, "Thank _you_. And now I am afraid I must take my leave of you; duty awaits on board my ship. May you find honor and glory!"

OOOOOOOO

Worf retired to the room given to him by his cousins early that evening, shortly after Huraga left, having felt fatigued following the long day. But lying on his bed alone, he found himself staring up at the ceiling, his head full of myriad thoughts, unable to sleep. He had already transmitted a message to his human parents back on Earth, yet still he felt restless. He had risen and was traversing the hallway when he heard the voices of his cousins coming from the main room just around the corner, and stopped to listen. "I do not know why he even bothers," Guvash was saying. "A Klingon who has lived for so long among _tera'nganpu'_ can never become a true warrior! His very presense is laughable!"

It was B'Korla who spoke now. "You speak truly, brother. What was it he drank...prune juice? Ugh! That is not the drink of a Klingon! And as for that so-called rokeg blood pie made by the Earther he calls mother... _va_! That old fool Huraga must be out of his mind if he believes Worf can ever make it as one of us. I tell you now, Guvash...I do not even like him being around our children. Who knows what weakling Earther values he will corrupt their minds with?"

"At least he will not be here for very long," Guvash sighed. "The sooner he goes back to the Federation, the better. In the meantime, we have little choice bu to tolerate him."

They went on talking, but Worf was already nearly out of earshot as he slowly walked back down the hallway. Silently, he closed the door of his room behind him and sat on his bed, his mind replaying over and over what he had just heard. So, that was what they really thought of him; not one of them, merely something to be 'tolerated.' And sitting there he wondered if his cousins may be right. Was he the fool for coming here, thinking he could ever fit in with them? He glanced at the blade Huraga had given him, now doubting if he really deserved it. And what of humans - did he belong with them? Worf brooded all through the night, more alone than ever before.


	4. Chapter 4

The storm which raged from the skies of Qo'noS on the night Worf hiked up the forrested hillside towards the Caves of No'Mat was fierce; lightning streaked through the clouds like titanic spears, and the rain nearly soaked him to the skin. Since setting out from his cousins' home three days ago, he had not eaten a single thing, and was currently fighting hunger and fatique. But he dared not give up now, when he was this close. Once he reached the caves he would be permitted a small amount of food and water a day while he meditated. It was something he had to do, for his own peace of mind.

" _No'Mat DISmey ghoSlI 'Iv?_ " The words came from a figure squatting before a small fire beneath an overhanging of rock, a few feet from the entrance to the caves. As Worf drew closer he saw that the person who had spoken to him was an old, but powerfully built man dressed in just a simple, wool cloak and hood. "I am the guardian of the Caves of No'Mat," the aged man said to Worf. "I would know your purpose in coming to this most sacred place."

Worf wasted little time to the challenging statement. "I am Worf, son of Mogh. For three days I have fasted, and now I would undertake the Rite of _MajQa_ , so I may gain clarity of my existence!"

The old guardian squinted up at Worf from where he sat on the rough ground, with the tempest roaring around them both in the night, assessing the youth who had come before him from out of the dark. "You may enter, son of Mogh," he said at last. "And may Kahless grant that you attain that which you seek within."

Once Worf entered the caves, the only sources of light were the small lantern which he held aloft and, as he penetrated deeper, the ruddy glow from small streams of lava. He lost track of time as he walked further and further into the tunnels, only halting once he came upon a wide ledge overlooking a great lake of lava. Worf stood and felt the intense heat all around him; already he sweated profusely. Yes, this would be a most ideal spot. Laying down his few provisions, he sat cross-legged on the warm rock, closed his eyes, and began the Rite of _MajQa_. For days he remained there, sweltering in the heat, striving for illumination to come to his tortured soul.

OOOOOOOO

"Worf!" The voice which spoke his name burst upon his senses like a thunderbolt, arresting him with its' sheer power and majesty. Opening his tired eyes, Worf winced against the dazzling pillar of light in front of him on the ledge, and slowly clambered to his feet as the figure of a man took shape inside the coruscant pillar. Even half-blinded by the light as he was, he instantly recognized the face of the figure now standing befored him. It was a face that all Klingons knew and revered, a face which adorned thousands of statues, murals and paintings across the entire Empire. An ancient face, that of the greatest Klingon to ever live...

"Do I...dream?" Worf gasped, his mind reeling.

"It is of little matter, son of Mogh," Kahless the Unforgettable said. "You sought my wisdom, and I have come. You have many questions, but I can give you but one message."

Worf's voice shook slightly. He felt like ash caught in the wind of a hurricane. "Tell me your message, O Kahless."

"You fear your life has no value," Kahless said. "But I tell you now, you are unique, for you will one day do something that no Klingon has ever done before...and it is in this that you will find your destiny! So take courage, Worf, and go forward!" The light surrounding Kahless flared as bright as a supernova then, and Worf felt himself hurled backwards into stupifying blackness.

OOOOOOOO

The sun was just beginning to peep tentatively over the far hills when Worf finally stumbled out of the dark caverns and breathed fresh air. To his side the old guardian turned his head and fixed his gaze upon him, but Worf needed no words to ascertain the thoughts which now took form from his appearance. Even now, he was uncertain as to whether or not the vision of Kahless had been real, or just a fever dream. But regardless of what the exact nature of that which he had recently experienced was, the words spoken unto him were fresh in his mind. In one way or another, he was unique. And as he started walking down the earthy slope in the chill light of dawn, he felt it in his bones that it would not be so very long before he knew just how unique he was.


	5. Chapter 5

"Helm, take us out of here, one quarter impulse!" Captain Jean-Luc Picard ordered the instant he and Lt. Commander Worf exited the turbolift onto the _Enterprise_ bridge, his face and voice showing his barely restrained fury and disgust - feelings felt even more strongly by Worf since they had both left the Great Hall of the Klingon High Council moments before.

"Sir, what happened down there?" William Riker, the _Enterprise_ 's first officer, asked of Picard. Seated on the opposite side of the captain from him was Deanna Troi, the ship's Betazoid counselor, her features extremely concerned, no doubt sensing the strong emotions radiating from Worf and Picard.

"Dishonor, Number One," Picard said darkly. "Dishonor and lies, to protect the corrupt while the innocent are slandered."

Stood at his station directly behind them, Worf thought back bitterly on the events of the last several days: The arrival on the _Enterprise_ of Kurn, his long-lost brother; the news that Mogh, their father, had been declared the traitor responsible for the Romulan attack on the colony at Khitomer...the same attack in which Mogh had died, leaving Worf to be rescued and adopted by the Rozhenkos; the discovery that it had been the father of Councillor Duras who was the real traitor and, worst still, that Chancellor K'mpec and the rest of the Council knew this and willingly shielded Duras! To protect the Empire, K'mpec had said to justify his actions.

And so there had been little choice for Worf but to accept discommendation, admitting Mogh's guilt of a crime he knew he was innocent of, and thus becoming an object of utter revulsion in Klingon society. Even Kurn had been forced to publicly turn his back on him, the memory of which would haunt both of them for a long time. Now, with his name reviled across the Empire, he could not even be in the presense of other Klingons. He would be openly cursed, taunted, spat upon. He held faint hope in his heart that he may one day be able to clear his father's name, but that day would not be soon in coming - if it ever did - and for now he would have to live with his torment.

Qo'noS was far behind them now as the _Enterprise_ went to warp. Memories came to Worf of his and his adoptive parents' leaving of Gault, years ago. He had never been back there, and wondered now if would ever live to return to Qo'noS with honor.

OOOOOOOO

"Come," Captain Picard said in response to the door to his ready room chiming, indicating that someone wished to enter. Placing his mug of earl grey tea on the desk behind which he sat, he looked up as the door opened to reveal Worf, who entered to stand before him. "Is there something I can do for you, Mister Worf?" he asked, noticing the expression of guilt on the face of his chief security and tactical officer.

"Captain," Worf replied, his eyes lowered in submission, "It has been several days since we left Qo'noS, following my...discommendation. I am greateful for the support you gave me in that difficult time. But...there was a moment, in K'mpec's private chambers. You protested my initial decision to accept execution to shield Duras' dishonor...and I temporarily forgot that you were my superior, and bade you be silent. I...apologize for my disrespect, sir."

Picard stood up from his chair then and looked Worf directly in the eye. "Mister Worf, I was not your captain then, but your _cha'DIch_ , under Klingon law. Believe me when I say that no apology from you is required. Any resentment I feel is directed at the cowards who have robbed you of your honor to conceal their crimes. You are a fine Klingon warrior, and a fine Starfleet officer."

Worf let the words sink in, unable to deny that he was deeply moved by his captain's faith. "Thank you, Captain," he finally managed to say.

"Before you go, Lt," Picard said, "I believe it is poker night tonight. I think you would be welcome to join the game."

"I shall...consider it," Worf responded, before turning and passing through the ready room door back onto the bridge. As he made his way to his station, he glanced round at the people had come to know so well: Riker, Troi, Data, Wesley. They respected him, believed in him. Kahless' words came back to him, that he would do something no Klingon ever had, and thereby find his place. Was serving in Starfleet - on this ship, with this crew - the fulfilment of that prophecy? Or did it lie in the future? Whatever the answer was, standing there on the bridge of the USS _Enterprise_ , Worf knew that he would meet any tribulations that came his way with the strength and grace which came from the best parts of Klingon...and human.

He thought he would join that poker game tonight.


End file.
